


Everything is Pokemon

by AlphaKantSpell



Category: Hannibal (TV), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Cannibalism, Crack, Crack Fic, what am I even doing, you know you want to read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the world of Hannibal but with pokemon at their side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s only after Tobias told him that he defeated two trainers that Hannibal realized he had more hopes than just rivalry between himself and Will Grahm.  Tobias is uncouth, forceful without elegance and so bound by his musical career that his starter was a Kriketot.  Hannibal had always wanted to defeat Will in a pokemon battle, but now he realized he wanted more than just that.  He wanted to become partners with Will, perhaps an official double team.  With Hannibal’s three pokemon and Will’s, they could have made a team of six.

            Could have.

            He takes care of Franklin first, an obvious stab at taking something from Tobias since he took something of Hannibal’s.  The other trainer just watches, an expression of pained fascination as the body hits the ground.

            “You didn’t even make eye-contact with him.” 

            “It was not a true battle,” Hannibal returned.  He watched Tobias, one elegant hand at his waist where the pokeballs were tucked under his coat. 

            “I challenge you, Hannibal Lector,” Tobias declared, tossing his first pokemon into battle.  As expected, Tobias opened with his oldest and strongest, a Kriketune with a rash personality as Hannibal learned from their dinner the other night.   Hannibal detested those without patience. 

            Hannibal watched as the Kriketune trashed her long arms in a display, ready for the fight.  As a bug type, the Kriketune would cause some serious damage to a majority of Hannibal’s team.  Hannibal was confident that his pokemon could defeat this younger trainer with their experience, but he’d learned long ago not to risk his tools.  Lickilicky it was, then.  Hannibal raised the pokeball and called it forth.

            Lickilicky blinked in a doe-eyed daze as his tongue rolled out, long enough to almost touch the floor (it wouldn’t – he’d been properly trained, after all).  After his first moments, Lickilicky took a defensive stance and awaited Hannibal’s order.  Despite the posture, an unquestionable power resonated from the pokemon.  His eyes, just black specks, flickered with a menace Tobias recognized in himself.  Hannibal’s own eyes reflected the same frightful emotion; his pokemon was hungry.      

            Tobias guffawed.  “And you’re sure I’m the first to realize what you are?”  He gestured to the Lickilicky.

            “Not the first,” Hannibal said, voice like frostbite.  “Not the last.”   

            He stood straight and gestured for his pokemon to attack. 

:::::::::::::::::::


	2. Chapter 2

Will isn’t much of a trainer.  He doesn’t consider himself one, anyway.  What he does is pick up strays, pokemon who have been abandoned for one reason or another.  There’s an alarming amount of them outside of poke-centers, fidgety and watery-eyed after being in the PC for who knows how long.  Will wouldn’t say he has a type, except that his home is filled with dog pokemon. 

There’s Penelope the Poochyena who gnaws on all his shoes, Erik the Electrike who won’t let anyone near him (which is good considering the static in his coat), Big Sally the Stoutland who barks like a monster truck, and a Houndouer he hasn’t named just yet (Hugh, Hank, Harold? He needs to sit on it longer).  

He doesn’t battle with his pokemon, at least anymore.  With the help of his Arcanine named Gael and a quiet Mime Jr. named Mia, Will had collected all badges from deep Louisiana to as far as Virginia.  It allowed him a permit to keep more than six pokemon in his house, so far out from the rest of suburbia it balanced on the line between solitude and recluse. 

So far Will hasn’t needed all the extra space, but he’s sure he’ll be collecting more pokemon as he settles into the home. 

Things change after Garrett Jacob Hobbs.  Will dreams of a Sawsbuck, cloaked in black leaves. 

For the first time in years, Will starts keeping Gael’s pokeball on him, just in case.  Mia accompanies Will to every crime scene but she isn’t the strongest in battle.  Besides, nothing is as soothing in a fight against a plant type as a fire type.

It’s stupid, really.  The Sawsbuck isn’t menacing or dangerous, except when it is.  It won’t leave him alone, is all.  Will is puzzled by the pokemon’s presence, always out there just beyond his peripheral.  He sees  antlers everywhere, thick branches with oily leaves like feathers.  Sometimes Will dreams about the pokemon impaling girls with Horn Leach, draining their life to add to his own.  Will finds his fingers tracing the same spots on his own body the next morning.  There weren't any marks but his sides _hurt_.

Gael is never far from him now, her presence soothing Will as they stand in his lecture hall.  Sometimes he’ll grab onto the thick of her fur and soak in the feverish warmth from her skin, just to remember that he’s alive.  He’s alive.  He’s alive.  Gael whines and presses her nose to Will’s chest so he can wrap his arms around her.  She’s his Starter and there isn’t a chance in the world he’s letting her go. 


	3. Chapter 3

Freddie Lounds is not unaccustomed to wheedling her way into a good story.  When she hears about the murder-graves from a source online, she and her Chartot make it a priority to get on the scene first.  Poliece and FBI work together on this one.  The hill leading to the graves is clogged with cars and security tape.  Freddie takes a moment to look herself over in a mirror, makes sure her curls are on this side of wild but haven’t sprung into a bushy mop. 

“Good.  Go,” her Chartot encourages her.  He plucks her purse with his beak and hops over to her across the car seat.

“We’re on something big here.  I can feel it,” she tells him as she takes the purse.  The Chartot makes a noise like an audience clapping. 

“Good.  Go.” 

Freddie smirks and heads out, the Chartot hurrying to perch on her shoulder.  Soon they find an officer Freddie is confident she can encourage to give her information.  A man stands alone over the graves, head bowed like in prayer.  A Mime Jr copies the man’s actions, bright colors of the pokemon garish against dark gold tones of the forest.  Freddie takes pictures as the officer whispers to her.  He’s just as curious about what’s happening as she is.

The man, Will Graham shouts.  He stumbles and everyone swarms the scene like fish crowding the top of an aquarium, eager to get a look.  Chartot flies to a high branch with Freddie’s camera around his neck to take photos.  It took a few tries to find a camera light and durable enough for the Chartot to maneuver but they’d been journalists since Freddie could pick up a pencil.    

“What’s going on?” she asks the officer.  Will Graham stumbles past them, tearing off his gloves like they’re coated in something acidic.  His Mime Jr isn’t far behind, mimicking the action.  His face is blanched and his shoulders arched.  A medical unit with a Blissey hurry up the hill where Graham come from. 

“Beats me,” the officer says.  He fidgets and tries to stop several other officers for a direction of what he’s supposed to do.  No one stops.  The man’s usefulness has run out. 

Freddie thanks him as she leaves, Chartot flying down to land back on her shoulder.

“So what did you find for me?” she asks as she takes the camera.    

“Pokemon,” Chartot says, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Pokemon?  We went to a murder-graveyard with a crazy FBI agent and you took pictures of pokemon?” She understands that pokemon love seeing other pokemon but they were professionals.  They needed their priorities to be on the story at hand. 

Freddie searches through the images Chartot took and smirks.  She’s seeing the story in reverse but Freddie understands easily enough.  One of the bodies had come alive, rotted slate skin oozing as fingers wrapped around Will Graham’s ankle.  That was enough of a story if it weren’t for what happened next.  A Foongus, young and undersized clung to Will.  It must have been in the pit with the body.  Freddie couldn’t imagine how scared the pokemon must have been, laying in the dark with a half-alive corpse.  Was the pokemon born there or was it attracted by the scent of sugar-sweet decay? 

Despite all that happened around him, Graham took a pokeball and nudged the whimpering Foongus.  It was caught without fuss.   Will Graham caught a pokemon at a murder scene.  He caught a pokemon that had been hiding in the folds of a corpse.  He’d caught perhaps the only leading witness in a massacre. 

This is just the story Freddie needs.    


End file.
